


And the Devil Makes Three

by unholyseraphs (orphan_account)



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Angst, Assassination Plot(s), Betrayal, Dark, Dark Comedy, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Robbery, Sad, Tudors AU, mercenary!Galavant, sort of, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/unholyseraphs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Galavant is charged to come to a brothel, he finds himself being hired by a mysterious employer to complete a very specific task: Kill King Richard. To do this, he becomes one of the King's Guard and the plan is to become close to Richard and kill him when he least expects it. </p><p>Galavant thought it would be easy, but nothing is ever easy with the king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Long Live the King

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this fandom, so please forgive me if it's not that great!
> 
> I was talking to a friend last night and I began to seriously psychoanalyze King Richard and decided to write an angsty, dark, but still comedic AU set in a more Tudor-esque England time period. This is by no means historically accurate whatsoever.

“Ah, _Galavant_ , it is good to see you… again.”

 

Galavant paused as he withdrew his hood and glanced around the brothel, turning a nod and slight smile Madame Rosemary’s way. She ran The Blooming Rose in a respectful and honorable way, always making sure to treat her whores better than any other brothel he’d run into over the years. However, he hadn’t come to sleep with a whore. Not tonight.

 

“And _what_ can we do for you tonight, Galavant?” Madame Rosemary asked with a smirk. Her dark eyes ran over him hungrily, but they both knew she wouldn’t touch him. That wasn’t how to run a business.

 

“I’m here for this,” he replied as he plucked the note from his pocket, showing her, her own stationery.

 

“ _Ah_. I see.” Madame Rosemary nodded and she turned her gaze to the stairs. “Up the stairs, the last room on the right. Your secret admirer is waiting for you.”

 

Gal rolled his eyes before turning to walk up the stairs, his hand ready to reach for the knife he kept hidden. The sword he’d left with Sidney, since he never went into Madame Rosemary’s establishment heavily armed. Muffled moans and gasps surrounded him on either side as he walked down the hall, feeling the tension in the air.

 

The note told him his services were desired for hire and he was to meet his prospective employer at The Blooming Rose. The last door on the right. Galavant stood in front of it, his gloved hand tentatively reaching out to touch the handle, before finally deciding to push it open. A figure, hooded and cloaked, stood facing the window that looked out to the back alley behind the brothel. Galavant frowned and came to stand just in the doorway.

 

“Shut the door,” came the gruff voice.

 

“Show me you’re unarmed, friend, and I will,” he replied.

 

“I ain’t gonna kill ya in a damn whore house! Besides, I need your help.”

 

Gal sighed and slowly shut the door, feeling exasperated already. Every mercenary had to have a _mysterious_ employer at least once in their lives, he was fairly certain it was a written rule somewhere. “What kind of help?”

 

“The killin’ kind. I’d do it myself… but…” The man trailed off and he shook his head. Galavant glanced the man’s reflection in the window pane and he almost gasped, but managed to keep his shock to himself.

 

“Who am I killing?” he asked.

 

“King Richard.”

 

He _almost_ laughed, but managed to hold it in. Was this man _serious_? Kill the _King_? “Ah, yes, let me just march up to the castle, let myself in, and cut Richard’s throat in the middle of the night. Sounds _splendid_.”

 

There was a dark chuckle. “Nah. I got a better idea.”

 

“And what, pray tell, is this better idea?”

 

“You ever wanted to be a King’s Guard?”

 

 

Being a king was never quite as good as the legends and tales liked to _make_ it seem. Stories never spoke of rituals and ceremonies; of arranged marriages and political dinners; of _boring_ things. Richard continued to drum his fingers along the oak table as he stared at the musicians hired to play for him. Not only was he unimpressed, he was outright _bored_.

 

He did not like to be bored.

 

“That’s enough,” he called, which brought the entire dinner to a halt. He pointed a finger to the head lute player. “ _You_. You bore me. Take him away.”

 

“But, Sire-.” the man protested, which only fused his anger further.

 

“Are you _back talking_ me?” he demanded, completely offended. He turned his gaze to Gareth, who was standing off to the side, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Did you hear him, Gareth? Did you hear him _back talking_ me?”

 

“I did, Sire,” Gareth replied with a firm nod. “Do you want me to make an example of him?”

 

The entire room grew tense as everyone waited for the order. More than once, he’d christened the floors with someone’s blood. But, damn it, he’d just had the floors _cleaned_ and he wasn’t about to ruin the new wood with a lute player’s blood. Besides, the whole thing was just so damn messy.

 

“No, no, no,” he said quickly, shaking his head firmly. “Much too messy, don’t want to get that all over my new _boots_. Guards!” Guards stepped forward, ready to obey his command. “Take him away, to the dungeons.”

 

“Sire, _please_!”

 

Richard laughed as the man was dragged away and he smiled delightedly at his subjects. “ _See_ , that was fun. Was that not fun? I think that was _just darling_.”

 

“Everyone agree with the King!” Gareth shouted, which made everyone nod and agree immediately.

 

His smile faded slightly as he saw everyone grow nervous and clearly uncomfortable; he tended to have that effect on people. Making people uncomfortable was what he did best, and he didn’t even _try_. “Chef!” he yelled, wanting a distraction from the misery in front of him.

 

A smell, peckish, and gaunt man shuffled his way forward, ducking his head and bowing every few steps. “Yes, Sire?”

 

“Take a dessert plate to my chambers. I want it ready for when I arrive.”

 

“Yes, Sire.”

 

Richard sighed as the chef rushed away like a scurrying rat, his tail between his legs. The music sounded even worse, now that the lute player was gone, so he stood up and stormed out of the hall. Gareth was quick on his heels, and soon they were marching down the back halls toward his private chambers.

 

“And where is my wife?” he asked as they approached his door.

 

“Prob’ly with the jester again, Sire,” Gareth replied.

 

“Really?” he asked. It was odd, his wife constantly with that man. “Is he _really_ that funny? I just don’t see how he can be that funny? But I suppose, if he keeps her happy, that’s all I can ask for.”

 

“Oh, he keeps her _very_ happy,” Gareth muttered.

 

Richard turned away and opened his door, taking in the sight of his large rooms. The walls were covered in a dark green and gold floral wallpaper; he’d had it crafted in Venice and it had come a long way to surround him whilst he rested, read, and slept. Glancing back at Gareth, Richard shut the door, to show his guard that he wanted some peace, before he turned his eyes back on the myriad of _stuff_.

 

He had many things; books, games, tapestries, clothes, paintings, rugs, carvings, furniture. Everything a king could ever want, but the only thing he did not have was his wife ready to join him at his beck and call.

 

As he sank down in front of the dessert tray, Richard felt himself grow lost in small reflection he could see on the polished silver; he didn’t like mirrors or reflective surfaces. Where his wife enjoyed staring at herself all day, Richard preferred to not see himself at all. He shoved the pastry over to cover up the reflection and glowered at the table instead.

 

The jester kept his wife happy and he wasn’t quite sure how to turn her affections on _him_. He did everything he could to please her. Every day he had new gifts and baubles sent to her rooms, he respected her vow of chastity, despite very much wanting not to; he made sure she always had everything she wanted, but it was never enough. _He_ was not enough.

 

Richard felt his hand clench into a fist and soon the pastry and tray were flying off the table to crash into something else, leaving a sticky and creamy mess in its wake. The crash brought Gareth bursting in, but Richard didn’t move. Instead, he kept seething, his hands shaking, and his breathing growing labored in his rage.

 

“Sire?” Gareth asked slowly.

 

He jerked his gaze over to Gareth sharply. “I need to kill something.”

 

Gareth nodded a bit. “I’ll have the lute player sent up.”

 

“Good.” Richard stood and walked over to open a chest which held a sword he only used when he was moody. “ _Now_ , Gareth.”

 

Gareth nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door with a slight click. Richard glared at the reflective surface of the sword and considered running it through the wall, but he didn’t want to ruin the beautiful flowers. He’d run it through the lute player and the blood would hide his face.

 

Flicking his eyes over to where he’d turned his own mirror to face the wall, Richard felt his shoulders relax at the black velvet backing. The door opened and he spun around to face the guards marching the lute player into his room, shoving the man to his knees. Richard slowly walked up to him, sword in hand. His footsteps were muffled by the plush rug underfoot; he’d had it shipped from Turkey. There was a copy in wife’s chambers.

 

“Sire, _p-please_ , I didn’t m-mean t-to of-off-offend _you_.” The lute player’s face was a wet, red mess as tears were flowing down it unchecked.

 

“Oh, _shut_ it,” he snapped back, placing the tip of the blade to the trembling man’s throat. “I’m not going to kill you _here_ , idiot.” Richard turned and set the sword back in chest. “What? And ruin my beautiful carpet flowers? _No_ , no, no.” He tsked and shook his head. “No, I’ll have you hanged and tossed off the Tower. Gareth, do that for me. Immediately.”

 

Gareth sighed and Richard glanced him rolling his eyes, but he didn’t address it. “Yes, Sir. Right away. Come on, men, you heard the King.”

 

“Sire, _no_!” The lute player screamed as he was forcibly dragged from the room. Richard rolled his eyes and let the door shut behind them. The dark cloud that was always a threat over his head, lessened, and then he sighed in disappointment. Dessert was ruined. “CHEF!” he yelled down the hallway. “Bring me another dessert tray!”

 

He couldn’t go without dessert.

 

 

“A _King’s_ Guard?” Sid asked as they rode through the courtyard toward the castle gates. “ _Really_?”

 

“Yeah, I know, not my usual gig.” Galavant shrugged. It wasn’t easy lying to Sid, but he couldn’t tell Sid the truth either. To _tell_ him that he’d been hired to kill the King? No, it would best if Sid didn’t know at all.

 

“But, it’s _great_!” Sid exclaimed. “Can I still be your squire?”

 

“Of course you can,” Gal replied as he showed the decree to the guard, who allowed them to pass through the gates. His stomach was in coils and he could only pray that it would be a quick job.

 

“A squire to a King’s Guard,” Sid said dreamily. “Oh, this is all I ever wanted!”

 

“Relax, Sid, I haven’t even been sworn in yet.” Dismounting, Galavant patted his horse’s neck and then he and Sid were walking into court. There were many faces he passed, but none he recognized. Not that he’d ever been to court, but he supposed someone in the room was related to someone he’d been hired to kill. Hopefully, no one would give him up.

 

“Excuse me,” Galavant said to a passing guard. “I have a decree to be seen by the King.”

 

“The King isn’t roused yet,” the guard replied. “He likes to sleep late.”

 

Galavant snorted. “You’re joking,” he said, but the guard’s face didn’t change and there was no indication that the statement was a joke. “Oh. Well, I’ll just wait then.”

 

Gal sighed and sent Sidney off to socialize, while he went to stand near the doors to the main throne room. They were closed at the moment, but he supposed if he stayed near by, he’d run into His Majesty eventually. Would it be that simple? Could he just stab Richard on his way into the throne room and then disappear into the crowd?

 

_“The King is heavily guarded at all times.”_

 

_Galavant nodded as they sat together, discussing the master plan. “So, how am I meant to get close to him?”_

 

_“You’re gonna become a King’s Guard. Take the oath. Get to learn his patterns… Then, when he trusts you, you take him out. Understood?”_

 

_“What’s in it for me?” he countered. “If I get caught, off goes my head.”_

 

_“By who?” the man spat. “You kill the king, ain’t nobody around to kill ya. He ain’t got any heirs. Once he’s dead, that means someone else has gotta be King.”_

 

 _“And who will_ that _be, pray tell?”_

 

_“Me.”_

 

Galavant shuddered as he remembered the meeting. He had to become close to Richard, become his confidant. It made his skin crawl, but he was being _paid_ to befriend the awful man.

 

“Her Majesty, the Queen!” a crier yelled, making him spin around on his heel. Galavant gasped as his eyes landed smack dab on Queen Madalena; she was _beautiful_. He’d heard the tales that she was the most beautiful woman in all of England, but seeing her in the flesh, it was different.

 

Her long dark hair and pale, unblemished skin looked soft and lush, and her gown was the richest of purples with gold embroidery. There was a small crown atop her head and she looked so _smug_ as she walked down the hall toward the great doors. Galavant was quick to make sure she saw him, but when their eyes locked, he felt his loins ache.

 

 _Oh God_ , he thought to himself as they stared at one another. If she stared at him any harder, his skin would light on fire.

 

“Bow to Her Majesty,” a guard spat at him and Galavant realized in alarm that he’d stood, frozen and still, as she’d approached. God, they were so close now, he could smell her perfume. It wasn’t overwhelming and it left him aching for more.

 

“My apologies,” he said quietly, never letting his gaze waver from her as he bowed at the waist. “I was simply overtaken by Her Majesty’s beauty.”

 

Madalena smiled slightly, looking truly bemused. “I forgive you,” she said, offering her hand to kiss, which he did gladly. “And what is your name, Sir?”

 

“Galavant,” he replied as he held onto her hand much longer than necessary. “Sir Galavant, Your Majesty.”

 

“ _Sir_ Galavant?” she asked. “A Knight?”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He nodded as he handed her the decree, which was technically forged, but hopefully she wouldn’t know the difference. “From the King.”

 

“Ah, I see.” She handed the paper back to him and that small smirk returned to her face. “Well, my _lazy_ and worthless husband is still lying in bed. So, I apologize in advance for your wait, Sir Galavant.”

 

“Thank you, my Lady, but you do not need to apologize. I am honored to wait,” he lied with a smooth smile.

 

“Hm.” Madalena nodded and then the doors were opened and she walked through them without another word.

 

Gal felt his body melt back against the wall as he began to picture her without her gown or corset. Her body was sinful, and in his opinion, she was much too young for Richard. He was in his forties, Galavant was certain, and she was probably barely in her mid twenties. Young and beautiful, she deserved a younger and hungrier man in her bed, warming the sheets.

 

 _You’re thinking treason, Gal_ , he chided himself. _I mean, sure, you’re going to kill the King, but what happens if he catches you fucking his wife before you get the chance?_

 

Gal leaned forward to look at the queen as the doors shut. He smirked at the image he got of her ass and the back of her gown. Well, he supposed it would be worth it in the long run. If he were going to get close to the king, there was nothing wrong with getting _just_ as close to the queen.

 

“You’re thinking dirty thoughts,” came Sid’s accusatory whisper.

 

“How do you know that?” he demanded.

 

“I saw your face,” Sidney hissed. “You can’t just stare at the Queen like that!”

 

He shrugged and leaned back against the wall again. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

 

“The _King_!”

 

“Yeah right.” Galavant shook his head and turned his eyes amongst the subjects as they walked about. “The King has no spine.”

 

“Then why are you becoming a _King’s_ Guard?” Sidney asked, looking confused.

 

“The money, mostly,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “Pays well.”

 

“ _Ugh_ , Galavant,” Sidney sighed and he rolled his eyes. “You’re _unbelievable_.”

 

“ _You’re_ not seeing the big picture Sid.” Galavant draped his arm over Sidney’s shoulders. “Think about it, there’s money involved, gorgeous women, and you’re still a squire to a famous knight. It’s all going to be _great_.”

 

Sidney sighed and he nodded. “if you say so-.”

 

“The King!” the crier yelled, making them jerk and straighten.

 

Galavant dropped his arm and immediately stood up straight and proud, as King Richard made an appearance. He was such an _odd_ man, even in the way he dressed. Always in blacks and golds with flowers embroidering just about everything he owned. His personal guard, Gareth, stood behind him, looking intimidating as ever.

 

“Your Majesty,” Galavant said as Richard approached the doors, clearly unhappy to be awake so early in the morning.

 

“And _why_ did I have to rise so early, Gareth, you never did say why. I’m very tired, I need my beauty rest,” Richard was whining as he came into earshot. Galavant had to force himself to not roll his eyes; the man was ridiculous and pathetic. If one could _call_ Richard a man.

 

“Sire,” Gareth growled as he turned his eyes to Galavant. “This man has addressed you.”

 

Richard turned his sharp blue gaze on him and it took Gal a moment to compose himself. He hadn’t expected the king’s eyes to be so startling. “And _you_ are?” he asked, clearly annoyed.

 

“Sir Galavant, Your Majesty. I have your royal decree.” He handed the paper to Richard and hoped to God that he bought it. Richard took the slip of paper and read it over, his frown apparent, and for a moment Galavant began to worry.

 

“Did I write this?” Richard asked as he handed the letter to Gareth. “I don’t remember writing it.”

 

Gareth frowned as he, too, read it over. “It’s your handwriting, Sire,” he said.

 

“Yes, but I don’t _remember_ -. Nevermind. Is _this_ why I was woken so damn early? To swear a new Knight in?”

 

“Ah, there you are,” Madalena said as she appeared in the doorway. “I see you finally dragged your useless self out of bed.”

 

Richard turned his gaze to Madalena and Galavant watched as he had to force a charming smile to his face. For a moment, Gal almost felt sorry for the man, but he supposed Richard was asking for the animosity. It wasn’t as if he were an impressive man.

 

“My Sweet Buttercup,” Richard said with his fake, warm smile. “I see you’re awake and _lovely_ today. I’m glad you like your new gown.”

 

“I hate it,” she replied dryly. “But since you put it out and my others were _nowhere_ to be found, I figured I should probably put it on.”

 

Richard stammered for a moment, until Gareth nudged his ribs. “Well, the others needed washing, my dearest.”

 

“I want them _back_ , Richard. Soon.” She turned her eyes to Gal again and smiled a little. “So, is this your new King’s Guard, husband?”

 

“Yes,” Richard said as he passed the decree back into Galavant’s hands. “Your name again?”

 

“Galavant,” he replied with a bow. “It is an honor, Your Majesty.”

 

“ _Please_ ,” Madalena said with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t make me sick. Hurry up and swear him in Richard, I want to _eat_ sometime soon.”

 

“Right away, Muffin,” Richard replied as she walked away. The smile he’d screwed on, quickly fell as she left, and then he turned his eyes back on him. “Well, Galavant, let’s get this over with.”

 

“Yes, Sire,” he replied with another bow. Winking at Sidney, Galavant followed the king and Gareth into the throne room to be sworn in. It almost felt wrong to stand and lie before the court, but then he remembered the money.

 

“And you swear to protect the King, at all costs, no matter the price?” Gareth asked him, with the final swear.

 

Galavant nodded and tried not to smirk. “Yes.”

 

“I hereby grant you, Sir Galavant, the honorary title of King’s Guard.”

 

When he bowed and accepted the black cloak over his shoulders, Galavant dared to smirk at the King’s boots. “Long live the King,” he said as he straightened.

 

“ _Long live the King_!”

 

 


	2. Insufferable Little Dicky

Eating with Richard was by far the worst punishment the man could bestow on her; watching him be _fed_ by his chef like a child was embarrassing. _He_ was embarrassing; the way he dressed, acted, and spoke was shameful. How the man remained king, she didn’t know.

 

Madalena stared down the table at Richard, unimpressed and quickly losing her appetite. “You can’t just _feed_ yourself, Richard?” she asked with exasperation. Once they were in their own private dining chamber, she lost respect for him and never called him _Your Majesty_. He wasn’t deserving of the title.

 

“Here comes the cannonball!” the chef exclaimed as he spooned another bite into Richard’s mouth. Madalena felt her stomach heave.

 

“You’re pathetic, Richard,” she said tiredly as she rose from her seat. “And you’re making me wish I were blind, deaf, and dead.”

 

“Leaving?” he asked with wide eyes. “So soon? You haven’t even touched your breakfast-.”

 

“I wonder why,” she replied coldly before walking out of the room. Guards fell into line behind her and she walked with her head high and shoulders back. Being queen had never been something she’d aspired to, not until her father had come to her one evening.

 

_“The King is looking for a wife,” her father, Lord Byron, commented as they stood outside their estate. She’d never taken interest in the king before; everyone knew he was a petulant and childish man, and not even the rightful heir to the throne. No one liked him._

 

_“He’s insufferable,” she replied darkly, glaring back at her father. “Are you suggesting-.”_

 

_“I am suggesting you put yourself in his way,” he replied darkly. “You’re doing this for the greater good of your family. If_ you _rise to power, my dear, then_ we _rise to power. It’s your duty.”_

 

_Madalena shuddered, her eyes turning to glare at the swans that rested on their pond. The whole world seemed so still and serene, as if the moment weren’t real. Perhaps, it was all a dream and she would wake up and realize she was_ not _to be Richard’s plaything._

 

_“Do you not want to be the Queen?” her father asked quietly._

 

_She shut her eyes and steeled her stomach. “I do,” she replied just as quietly. “Just not his queen.”_

 

_“All you have to do is marry the man.” Lord Byron came to stand directly in front of her, blocking the view of the swans and the pond. “And provide him an heir.”_

 

_At the suggestion, Madalena felt her face twist in derision. “You must be joking. Sleep with him? Father, I will do many things for this family, but sleep with that_ child _? Never.”_

 

_A sharp sting struck her cheek and she gasped as she felt blood fill her mouth. Lord Byron glared at her, his face wild with rage. If he struck her again, she’d bruise. “Defying me, now, are we Madalena?”_

 

_“No, Father,” she whispered, dropping her eyes to the ground. She was not one to be demure, but her father’s rage was not something one tempted often._

 

_“Good. Now, put yourself in his_ way _.”_

 

_“Yes, Father.”_

 

Madalena shuddered as she threw open the doors to her chambers. Her ladies in waiting all went into a scurry to start doing as she bid. But the only thing she wanted was to see Galavant. Turning to face the guards, she looked them over with a charming smile. “Guards, please bring Sir Galavant to my chambers.”

 

“Yes, my Lady,” they replied as they bowed and exited her room.

 

“Ladies, undress me and then you may leave,” she snapped. “Now.”

 

Isabella, a princess from somewhere - Madalena could never remember - stepped forward and began to unlace her gown without further comment or question. The other ladies were all gossiping about her, complimenting her on her fair skin and beautiful hair. They all broke into giggle fits and hushed whispers as they undressed her, brushed her hair, and helped her into a dressing gown.

 

Madalena watched Isabella throughout the process, her face never wavering, always a stone cold mask. What was this maid _plotting_ behind silent lips?

 

“You all may go,” she announced, as her ladies curtsied and began to file out. “Except you, Isabella. You may stay.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Isabella replied quietly as she stood, demure and still, her eyes on the floor and her hands in front of her.

 

The silence between them stretched on as the chambers grew empty save for the two of them. A bone handled brush sat on her vanity and Madalena picked it up and offered it out to Isabella. “Brush my hair.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Isabella stepped forward and accepted the soft bristled brush, gently starting to run it through her hair.

 

“You’re very quiet,” Madalena said casually. “Why?”

 

“I do not like talking, Your Majesty.”

 

“And what do you think of my husband?” Madalena hated Richard, but she also didn’t need one of her ladies cooking up ideas of taking the king for themselves.

 

“I think the King is a fine man,” Isabella said diplomatically.

 

Madalena snorted and that made Isabella pause and glance up to meet her gaze in the mirror. “ _Please_ ,” she scoffed with a laugh. “Richard is pathetic and we all know it.”

 

Isabella’s cheeks began to turn red and she dropped her eyes again. “The King must have some merit or he would no longer be king,” she pointed out quietly.

 

“I _suppose_.” Madalena didn’t want to agree with Isabella or even come close to paying her awful husband a compliment, but she was right. If Richard had _no_ spine, he wouldn’t be sitting on the world’s most powerful throne. “I still want to know what you _really_ think of him.”

 

“I think it is not my place to speak on the King.” Isabella set the brush down on the vanity before stepping back and standing still. She was clearly waiting for an order. Madalena rolled her eyes as she stood and went to lounge on her bed.

 

“You know what I think?” she asked.

 

“No, Your Majesty.”

 

“I think you should leave.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Isabella curtsied and walked out, only to be replaced by Galavant, who walked in tentatively, unsure of himself.

 

Madalena smiled and sat up. “ _Hello_ , Galavant,” she said.

 

Galavant’s eyes grew wide and he was quick to avert his gaze. “Your Majesty, I was not aware that you were indecent. I will leave-.”

 

She laughed and opened her arms. “Please, Galavant, you _know_ why I called you here.”

 

Galavant was slow to glance at her, but soon his eyes were roaming over her body with a man’s hunger. An easy and comfortable smile spread across her face as she laid back against the pillows.

 

“Do I have Her Majesty’s permission?” Galavant asked as he approached the bed, ready to fall on her with a single word.

 

Madalena smiled slightly and nodded. “Oh, _yes_.”

 

  

The clouds were darkening outside his window and there was a pain starting to build right behind his left eye socket. A headache was not what he needed while trying to pick out a new gift for Madalena; it was making everything impossible to focus on. He’d sent her jewels, gowns, crowns, tiaras, rings; hell, he’d even sent her a puppy, but she wasn’t eager or pleased with any of the gifts he’d chosen.

 

Now, his servants stood before him with velvet chests full of new necklaces and bracelets and rings, each more extravagant than the last. There was a diamond necklace with a diamond so large, he wasn’t sure her small neck would be able to hold up such a jewel. A gold and onyx bracelet in the shape of a beautiful serpent could wrap around her arm, but Richard had a feeling she would see that as an insult.

 

He shook his head and waved the chests away. They were all _wrong_. Every piece of jewelry, every gift he tried to please her with. He couldn’t do _anything_ right.

 

“Sire,” Gareth said as he walked into the room, looking gruff as ever.

 

Richard sighed and pouted angrily, his arms folded across his chest. “What is it, Gareth?”

 

Gareth sighed, his mouth twisted. “Must you act this way? Hm? What could possibly be wrong _now_?”

 

He gesticulated at the servants who stood off to the side of the room with useless boxes. “They’re all _wrong_!”

 

“Who?” Gareth asked.

 

“The gifts, Gareth, the _gifts_. She won’t _like_ any of them, there’s no point in sending them to her rooms. Where _is_ she anyway? I’ve asked her to join me for tea and she’s ignored my invitation!” Richard glanced at the teapot and small, dainty cups with sadness. They were his favorite pattern, too, but Madalena was anything but grateful and appreciative.

 

“Sire, I dunno where the Queen is, but what I do know is that you need to man up for ‘er!” Gareth punched his arm and Richard flinched, reaching up to rub the sore spot. “Be a man for once in your life! Take charge, go to ‘er room and _demand_ have tea with you!”

 

“Gareth, I will not _demand_ she have tea with me, I believe she has the right to choose-.”

 

“To hell with her right to choose!” Gareth waved his hand in disdain. “You keep givin’ her the ‘right to choose’ and she will _never_ choose you!”

 

He flinched and turned to look outside. The sky was brooding and dark now, easily matching how he suddenly felt on the inside. The words hung in the air and he was certain the tension could have been sliced with a knife. There was no need for him to say anything else, he simply stood and went to sit out on the balcony away from everyone.

 

Gareth was right of course; Madalena would never _choose_ him, just like no one else in his life had ever chosen in him. Even Gareth hadn’t _chosen_ him; his own mother had despised him, passing him off to a peasant wet nurse to care for him his entire life. Pearl had been a good woman, always there for him and always making him smile. He missed Pearl.

 

“Richard,” Gareth grumbled as he came to stand outside with him. “C’mon, git inside before you catch your death. C’mon.”

 

“Perhaps that would be best,” he replied bitterly.

 

“Aw, don’ be like that now. C’mon.” Gareth took his arm and began to lead him back inside, just before the rain began to fall. “Yer the King, Sire. You can have whatever you want, when you want it, _including_ your wife. Now, you’ve got to _man up_ for ‘er! Prove to ‘er that you’re a _real_ man.”

 

Richard set his jaw and nodded. “Do you think that will win her affections?”

 

“Damn right.”

 

“Well, alright Gareth, but you have to teach me.”

 

Gareth smiled, which was a rare sight to see. “Don’ you worry, Sire, I’ll have ya in her bed in no time.”

 

A bright smile slid across his face, but was quickly replaced with a scream as thunder clapped. He jumped up into Gareth’s arms, completely startled and alarmed. He didn’t miss the look of annoyance from Gareth nor did he miss the snorts and quiet laughter from his servants.

 

Sauntering out of the queen’s bedchambers in the middle of the afternoon was, by far, one of the best and proudest moments of his life. She’d invited him to be her consort and now that he was sleeping with the queen, maybe his employer would let him marry her later. Smiling, Galavant headed down the hall with a huge grin on his face.

 

He rounded the corner and almost ran smack dab into Richard. “Oh, Your Majesty,” he said, quickly reaching to catch the man before he fell. “Many apologies, Sire.”

 

Richard brushed himself off, peering at the seams of his tunic. “Where were you just now?” he asked, his eyebrow raising upward.

 

“I was speaking with the Queen, Your Majesty.” There was no point in completely lying. Besides, Richard was a daft man who was completely unaware of his wife’s lascivious ways.

 

“About?” Richard prompted.

 

“She only wanted to meet me properly and welcome me to the King’s Guard.” Galavant smiled proudly and puffed out his chest. “Which I am still _honored_ , Sire. Your bestowment is the best thing to ever happen to me.”

 

“Hm.” Richard looked him over, as if debating the truth of his story. “Well, I suppose I believe you… Now, I could use your help, Galavant.”

 

“Anything you wish, Your Majesty.” A clap of thunder made Richard jerk so badly, Galavant was surprised he didn’t wet himself. “Are you alright?”

 

“Why, _yes_ ,” Richard replied, his voice rising an octave or three. “Just divine. Now, um, come with me, Galavant.”

 

Galavant nodded and withheld the smirk he felt growing when Richard jumped again dramatically at the sound of thunder rolling overhead. Was the king afraid of _thunderstorms_? Out of all of the amusing things about Richard, he supposed _this_ was his new favorite. The _King_ of England was afraid of thunderstorms.

 

By the time they reached their destination, Galavant counted Richard’s jerking; sixteen times. He’d jumped sixteen times, and still, Gal was unsure if the man had wet himself. A door was opened and Gal noted that they were in a room that was _made_ for a man; dead animals, weapons, leather and dark woods. It must have been Gareth’s chambers.

 

“What’s ‘e doin’ here?” Gareth asked, jerking his head in Gal’s direction.

 

“He’s going to help us,” Richard replied quickly.

 

“What exactly am I helping with, Your Majesty?” he asked.

 

Richard turned to face him, his hands clasped together. “I need you to teach me to be manly.”

 

It was Gal’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Teach you to… be _what_?”

 

“Masculine. To gain my wife’s affections!” Richard shoulders slumped and he seemed genuinely upset for a moment. “She doesn’t like me and while I have respected her vow of chastity-.”

 

Galavant snorted and then quickly attempted to cover it up with a cough. “You want _more_ with her?” he asked quickly.

 

“ _Yes_.” Richard nodded sadly. “I want her to _love_ me. I thought I could wear her down, win her affections, but it is proving to be very difficult.”

 

“I see.” Galavant glanced at Gareth when Richard turned away, gesturing after the king, wondering if he were serious. Gareth shrugged slightly and Gal had to stop himself from sighing out loud. _It_ was proving to be very difficult. “Well, Your Majesty, I will do what I can to help you.”

 

Richard did a quick circle on his heel. “I would be _very_ appreciative, Galavant.”

 

Galavant nodded and steeled himself, clasping his hands together. “Well, let’s get started then, shall we?”

 

 

“The King requests your presence at his dinner table.”

 

Madalena glanced up from the book she’d found herself reading to pass the storm away. “You’re joking,” she said with a snort. “Does he _honestly_ think I’m going to-.”

 

“The King demands your presence, Your Majesty. I would suggest you do as he says.” The guard stared at her, looking quite serious.

 

Rolling her eyes, Madalena marked her place and set the book aside. Screwing on a fake smile, she followed the man down the hall and off toward their private dining hall. Rather than the long and large table Richard normally had them sitting at, there was a much smaller and more _intimate_ table set for two.

 

“What type of pathetic effort is this?” she asked as she approached the table, where Richard stood, very serious in leather and black, versus his usual velvet attire.

 

“Sit down,” he said, his voice deep and serious. It sent a shiver down her spine.

 

“Richard-.”

 

“I said sit, woman,” he snapped.

 

Taken aback, Madalena sank down into the chair and then he poured her wine, followed by drinking ale from a bottle. It was extremely _unlike_ Richard. She frowned, completely confused. What was he trying to do? Seduce her? It was a laughable attempt at best, but creative.

 

Servants came forth to put some chicken and greens on her plate, but she was eager to dig into the chicken. Even though she knew women weren’t really _meant_ to eat, Madalena ate what she pleased without thought or question. As far as she were concerned, she’d eat as she liked, and no man would tell her not to. Not that Richard ever did. She glanced at him and found him not eating much at all, in fact, he wasn’t touching his meal.

 

“Are you not hungry?” she asked as she swallowed the hunk of chicken she’d devoured.

 

Richard glanced down at his hardly touched plate and he shrugged. “I prefer to watch you eat, than eat myself.”

 

_Ah, there’s the Richard I know_ , she thought with a sinking feeling. Still queer and unpleasant as usual. “You do realize that you’re being odd again.”

 

Richard glanced down at his meal and plopped a small tomato into his mouth. “Happy?”

 

“With you?” She snorted. “Never.”

 

“Oh, come on, I _try_ so very hard to make you the happiest woman alive!” he cried, looking around desperately. “I buy you gifts, I change my eating habits, the way I dress! For _you_ , my Sweet-.”

 

Madalena raised her hand to stop him. “Before you call me ‘Sweet Muffin’ or ‘Sweet Roll’, I’m going to stop you or I’m going to lose my dinner. Richard, you’re a disgusting excuse of a man who I find to be obnoxious at best. You should just learn to deal with that.”

 

Richard frowned and he looked away, crossing his arms, sullen faced. “You act as if I am the most insufferable man alive-.”

 

Madalena burst into laughter; oh, he just made it all too easy. “You make it so easy, Richard, you should stop making insults so easy… Or should I call you _Dicky_.” She’d heard about the king’s old nickname; he hated it, of course, but she supposed it suffice during times where she wanted him to go away.

 

Richard’s face went from sullen to blank, as he stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “Madalena-.”

 

“Insufferable little Dicky,” she cooed.

 

He looked away and stared out the window at the dark sky; it was still thundering and the lightning was only growing worse. It was hilarious to see him startle at the loud rumble, and she couldn’t help but laugh at him further.

 

“Of _course_ , little Dicky is afraid of thunderstorms. Somehow, I’m just not surprised, Dicky.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” he growled, but they both knew he wouldn’t do anything about it.

 

“See?” Madalena said as she stood. “You’ve made me laugh and be happy, Richard… Too bad it only happens at your own expense.”

 

Richard stood as well and pointed a finger at her, his face sullen and stern. “You will grow to love me, Madalena, just like my nurse Pearl did! She loved me and-.”

 

“You’re unlovable, Richard,” she retorted, cutting him off. “Pearl only loved you because your parents paid her.”

 

Again, Richard’s face went blank and she saw him lose some color in his cheeks as he sank back into his chair like she’d struck him. Madalena straightened and turned to walk out of the room.

 

“Sleep well, Dicky.”

 

A smile went into place as she walked out of the room, listening to the doors shut behind her. Glancing over at a guard, she grinned and winked at him. His eyes roved over her body, but before he could make another move, she slipped out of his grasp and sashayed down the hall. The echo of footsteps followed.

 

 


	3. To Kill a King

 

“Good night, Your Majesty.”

 

Richard nodded as his manservant left the room and the door softly shut behind him. The fire continued to crackle and burn, bringing warmth to the cold bedchamber. Madalena’s words continued to echo in his mind.

 

_You’re unlovable Richard, Pearl only loved you because your parents paid her to do so_.

 

The circling wouldn’t end; it was completely endless and he didn’t know how to calm his nervous heart. Had Pearl ever loved him? Had anyone loved him? His own _mother_ hadn’t loved him; she’d handed him off to a woman she paid to care for him. The love had seemed so _real_ in his mind’s eye, but the more he thought on it, the more the facade began to crack and crumble.

 

Pearl used to feed him every meal, but as he began to recall his meals, Richard began to distinctly remember how she would roll her eyes and sigh. She’d tell him to sit up straighter and eat like a boy his age should eat. He never did and she’d kept feeding him playfully, but the realization that she’d only done it out of obligation was heart breaking.

 

They’d used to play games together; card games, games of make believe, knights and damsels in distress - they’d had the best of times together. Richard gasped as those memories began to grow tainted with blackness, too.

 

Madalena was right; he was insufferable.

 

The air in his chest began to gather and tighten and he gasped in gulps a few times. The ligaments in his knees grew so weak, Richard could feel his legs shake; it wasn’t long before he was on the floor, sitting and staring up at the black void of the mirror. It glared down at him like a disapproving parent.

 

_Insufferable little Dicky_.

 

“No,” he mumbled to himself, ready to wrap himself up in a blanket for protection, but instead, he grew entangled. Perhaps, the bedsheets were ready to murder him now. Shoving them off of his frame, Richard launched himself upright and spun the looking glass around. His reflection stared back at him and what he saw was a sad and empty shell of a man.

 

A husk.

 

Not a king.

 

“No,” he sobbed, falling backward, onto the bed, still staring at himself.

 

The reflection began to move of its own accord and it tsked and shook his head, ashamed. “Look at you,” it said. “ _Pathetic_. Always have been and always will be. You cover up your shame with humor, but everyone hates your jokes. Pearl didn’t like your jokes either, she only laughed because she was paid to laugh.”

 

“No, no, no.” Richard clamped his hands over his ears, but the voices were chasing him about in circles.

 

“No one likes you, Dicky. Not Gareth. Not Pearl. Not your subjects. Certainly not your wife. Not Galavant. No one. You don’t even like you.”

 

He looked up at the mirror and saw his reflection still again; he was only left with staring at himself. The realization as too much. The heavy book felt good in his hand and he threw it into the glass. The mirror cracked and pieces began to fall to the floor. They littered the carpet like hundreds of mirrors and he screamed.

 

Hundreds of eyes stared back at him. His reflection was everywhere and there was no escape.

 

_You don’t even like you._

 

 

 

The hall was extremely quiet as Galavant walked away from Madalena’s room, still fixing the laces of his breeches. She’d sent him away as soon as the sky had started to lighten, just in case her husband came by. Not that he ever did. Spending the night with her always left him in a good mood, and he could feel a smile working its way up to his face.

 

He rounded the corner and was abruptly met by Gareth. “Good morning,” he greeted cheerfully, which only made Gareth scowl. “What?”

 

“The King is being difficult this mornin’,” Gareth snarled. “Won’t get up. I’ve been by twice.”

 

“I thought he liked to sleep late?” he asked.

 

“He does, but it ain’t good for his health and I’ve tried to tell ‘im that more than once. He needs to eat his breakfast and get up and be a damn king.” Gareth’s hand clenched and his jaw popped. Gal just stared and tried not to think too much on the contradictions he kept seeing in the man.

 

“You want me to try and wake him up?”

 

“Eh, I’m gon’ try again, and if I can’t get ‘im up, it’ll be _your_ turn.”

 

Gal nodded and watched as Gareth stormed off, looking so fed up with Richard. He sighed and ran a hand along his face. Perhaps, he should just kill the king in his bedchamber and get it all over with. If he had to stay and babysit him, he wasn’t sure _he’d_ make it out alive. Hanging himself by bedsheet was probably preferable than attempting to get the king up and moving in the morning.

 

“ _There_ you are!” Sidney appeared from behind, almost making him startle, but he only just managed to remain composed. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

“Because,” Sidney replied in exasperation as he held out his hand. In it, was an envelope, sealed with the Queen’s seal. “From the Queen.”

 

Smirking, Galavant accepted the letter and eagerly broke the seal.

 

> _Dearest Galavant,_
> 
>  
> 
> _I have hopes that you are enjoying our time together as much as I. Tonight, we should have dinner together. I would have invited you in person, but I am afraid I have too many other things to attend to today. Come to my chambers tonight at six. I look forward to seeing you. Again._
> 
>  
> 
> _Madalena_

 

“You know, I _just_ left her bedchamber, she writes incredibly fast.” Galavant grinned and tucked the letter away into his tunic. “She invited me to dinner.”

 

“You know, I don’t _like_ this, Gal,” Sid whispered. “It’s not going to end well if the king finds out you’re…” He trailed off and glanced all around, as if Richard were about to pop out of the floral wallpaper, which Gal figured, was a possibility. “ _Sleeping_ with her.”

 

“Oh, come off it, Sid.” Gal waved his hand dismissively. Always so damn worried, it was almost more annoying that it was endearing.

 

“Well, you are, aren’t you?” Sidney continued to whisper as they began to walk down the hallway together.

 

“I’m the queen’s consort, yes.”

 

“You’re going to get into trouble, Gal.”

 

He glanced back at Sidney and winked. “Don’t I always?”

 

“Well-.”

 

“And don’t I _always_ get out of said trouble?”

 

“Yes, but-.”

 

“Stop worrying then. You’ll get wrinkles.” Winking again, Gal reached back and tweaked Sid’s nose, before turning to walk off toward Richard’s bedchambers. Just in case.

 

The world was quiet and still, the light only gray before the sun rose over the trees to pour into his window. The fire had died down ages ago, but under furs and blankets, he stayed warm, even if no matter how many throws he put on, there was a coldness constantly lingering. It made getting out of bed impossible, because if he rose from bed, he would no longer be in the little warmth he had.

 

“Majesty?” came Gareth’s voice from the other side of the door. “You ‘wake?”

 

Richard felt his body attempt to sink further into the mattress. If he could help it, he would never wake to see another day again. After all, it would be easier on his wife, his kingdom, Gareth, _everyone_.

 

“I’ve been here three times, Richard, you need to _get_ up…” When he didn’t respond, Gareth audibly sighed.  “I’m sendin’ someone else to get you up.”

 

Richard almost told him not to bother, but he managed to stay quiet. The curtains, heavy and drawn shut, let the slightest of light in as the sun rose slowly, but he felt no warmth from the light; it was pale and cold. It did nothing to calm the demons racing in his mind and it didn’t kill Madalena’s voice either.

 

_You’re unlovable Richard, Pearl only loved you because your parents paid her to do so_.

 

He couldn’t make the words go away; they haunted his every step, his every waking moment, in fact he hadn’t yet fallen asleep. He’d stayed up all night, staring into the void over his bed, trying to ignore the shards of glass on the ground. They glittered in the light and with every movement, he glimpsed himself at times. It was nightmarish.

 

The door to his chamber was suddenly thrown open, making him gasp as he sat up, caught completely by surprise. Who had the keys to his chambers? He would have to get them back immediately.

 

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” came Galavant’s voice as he walked in.

 

Richard remained on the bed, clutching the duvet to his chest, staring as Galavant strutted over to the window and yanked the curtains back. When he spun around, glass crunched beneath his feet, and Richard saw him frown and glance down.

 

“The hell happened here?” Galavant asked.

 

Richard looked away, not owing a man he barely knew an explanation. “Go away.”

 

“Gareth sent me in here to get you up, and since I’m not afraid to walk in here and tear you from the bed, here I am.” Galavant glanced all over the room. “How much stuff do you _have_?”

 

“Go away, Galavant,” Richard spat as he finally tossed the blanket aside and slowly began to get up on the opposite side of the bed, so as not to send his foot through glass.

 

“Can’t, not until you’re dressed and ready for your porridge and eggs.”

 

“I’m _working_ on it,” he growled. Richard was somewhat sure that his bones were actually creaking as he attempted to make it to his wardrobe. Either he was getting very old or his body was still aching to be back in bed. He was betting on both.

 

_Unlovable Richard._

 

He shuddered.

 

“You up?” Galavant asked as he leaned back against the window, a knife in his hand, picking at his nails.

 

“Yes,” he replied darkly. “No thanks to you.”

 

Galavant snorted. “Sure. Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

 

“Is Madalena ready for breakfast?” he asked as a servant ushered into help him dress, but Richard shooed them away. He would dress himself for once.

 

“I’m not sure,” Galavant said with a shrug, finally glancing up and then visibly flinching. “The hell you have to strip in front of me for? I don’t need to see that nor do I _want_ to.”

 

Richard rolled his eyes as Galavant made a dramatic showing of turning around to face the window as he began to pull on breeches and pick out a tunic for the day. It was an all black kind of day. “Yes, well, you’re not the first, get in line.”

 

“You regularly strip naked in front of people, then?” Galavant asked with a laugh.

 

Richard didn’t say anything, he just continued to lace laces and button buttons. It was easier to focus on one task at a time. “Why are you still here? I’m up. I’m dressed.”

 

Galavant glanced back at him and nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good. That’s how we like you. Fully covered and conscious.”

 

Opening his mouth to disagree, Richard paused and decided it would be best to let it go. Galavant wouldn’t understand anyway. _His_ mother had probably loved him just fine. “Did your mother love you, Galavant?” he asked as they walked out of his room together.

 

Galavant blinked and looked confused. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“Your mother… Did she love you?”

 

“ _Yes_.”

 

“Hm.” He sighed and said nothing else, instead forcing one foot in front of the other. It was the only thing he could do. Crawling back into bed sounded better and better with each step, and when he came upon Madalena and her ladies in waiting, all hustling to the main hall.

 

“The Queen!” a crier called, and people paused to stop and bow. Richard paused in his own walk to admire her, staring at her beauty in the early morning sunlight. Her hair shone as if it were on fire in the light and her smile was so beautiful it made him sick with wonder, but then it all came crashing down when she laid eyes on him. The smile faded and it was replaced with a stoic and cold mask.

 

“Oh,” she said. “You’re up.”

 

“Yes,” he said, taking her hand and putting it in his arm, so they could walk together toward breakfast. “I am up and ready to eat, what about you, darling?”

 

Madalena leaned into whisper, “I’m ready to become violently ill all over you, if you call me a pet-name _one_ more time.”

 

That was enough to silence him as they walked in to sit at their table and eat breakfast. She was eager to dive into the eggs and different meats, but he only looked at his plate and felt no hunger. He’d grown up fat as a child and ever since had turned into the finickiest eater; he was afraid to look that way again. If he gained weight, then Madalena would _really_ not want him or fall in love with him. He’d be alone forever.

 

Galavant walked in and went to stand with the other guards. He watched as Madalena glanced at him more than once, smiling, and winking. He frowned, wondering if they were friends. He’d have to ask Galavant after breakfast.

 

“What are your plans for the day, dearest?” he asked, drawing her attention back to him. It was a scowl, rather than a smile, but at least she was looking at him.

 

Galavant coughed so loudly, it startled just about everyone in the room. Madalena smirked and shrugged. “Not sure, yet, why?”

 

“Perhaps we should do something _together_ ,” he said, trying to sound hopeful and happy. “Something we _both_ enjoy.” A happy smile filled his face, but the silence carried on between them. It grew so quiet, that he could hear the echoes of other things happening in the palace. “Dearest?”

 

“Oh, you were serious?” she asked, looking unimpressed. “Richard, _darling_ , we don’t enjoy the same things. I find you repulsive and will do everything I can to stay away from you at all times.” Her face filled with a charming smile and he flinched back into his seat.

 

Gareth coughed as well, which made him look over at him. He clenched his hand into a fist and Richard knew he was trying to tell him to stand up for himself. Grow a spine. Be the king…

 

But he didn’t want to force her into a room with him. Forcing her to do something would only make her hate him more, and he was determined to wear her down. It _would_ happen. She _would_ love him; he just had to find the right time and place. Patience was a virtue and not something he had much of.

 

“So, that’s  a no- I just thought I’d check,” he said quickly, which only resulted in a death glare from her. She may as well have thrown daggers at his face. “Right.”

 

“I’m done,” she said, shoving her chair back and standing. “I hope you have a terrible day.”

 

“I-... I hope you have a beautiful day, Madalena,” he replied quietly as she walked away, the door slamming on her way out.

 

“Sire!” Gareth growled as he walked over, looking as if he were ready to slap him.

 

Richard looked up at him in panic. “Gareth, mind your blood pressure- your face is turning red- you have a _vein_ throbbing in your neck-.”

 

“You’re a pathetic little prat of a man,” Gareth growled, looking fed up. “I told you to grow a pair and you just _won’t_. And now, you’re just going to keep on sufferin’ for it. It’s not my fault, Richard, it’s not!” He shoved a finger into Richard’s chest a few times, to the point where Richard was certain he’d bruise.

 

“Gareth-.”

 

Gareth stormed out of the room, too, letting the door slam behind him.

 

“Ow,” he whined, reaching up to rub the spot Gareth had poked.

 

“And then there were two,” Galavant said as he walked over to sit down in Madalena’s seat. “You mind?” he asked, gesturing to the uneaten food.

 

“I suppose not, since you are going to simply invite yourself to eat at my table.”

 

“Well, no one else is,” Galavant pointed out.

 

“No, I suppose not.”

 

“You know, your wife is a royal bitch,” Galavant said as he took a bite of bread. “No’ffense.”

 

Richard shrugged, running his fingers over his beard. “Why am I like this?” he asked suddenly. “I just _let_ people walk all over me-.”

 

“You _kill_ people who piss you off, so why do you let her get away with so much?” Galavant cut him off. “I mean, you let her get away with everything, but you beheaded the lute player last week for boring you.”

 

“You heard about that?” he whispered.

 

“Richard, everybody’s heard about that.”

 

“I don’t _mean_ to be a bully,” he whined, looking over at the window sadly. Until he noticed his own reflection, and then it was back to looking at Galavant. At least Galavant was nice to look at. “I don't’ _want_ to be a bully. My brother was a bully and I don’t want to be that way.”

 

“So, that’s why you let people walk all over you, because you don’t want to be a bully?”

 

“I-,” Richard began, but then he stopped. It wasn’t Galavant’s business. It wasn’t anyone’s business, but his own. “Nevermind.”

 

Galavant frowned slightly and paused in his eating. For a moment, they stared at one another, and Richard almost felt panicked that Galavant was attempting to see right into his soul. The moment passed as quickly as it came and Galavant returned to eating.

 

“Look, I think Gareth is right,” Galavant said, drawing him back to the present. “I think that you should stand up for yourself, be a _king_ … and stop raising taxes so damn much.”

 

Richard rolled his eyes and began to drum his fingers along the table, his chin in the other. “Taxes are important,” he commented lightly.

 

“Yeah, but you’ve got them like up here.” Galavant raised his hand high over his head as he chewed through some sausage. “Too high.”

 

“I’m the bloody king, I can do what I want,” he snapped, finally having had a enough of being told _what_ he should do.

 

“Then go after your wife and tell her to stop being such a-.”

 

He shoved a finger in Galavant’s face. “Insult my wife again and see where you end up, _Galavant_.”

 

The chair scraped harshly along the floor as he stood and stormed out of the dining hall, listening to the door once again, slam shut with a loud thud.

 

 

The spring in his step from earlier was gone, now that he walked down the hall toward Madalena’s chambers for dinner. After seeing her display with Richard at breakfast, Galavant _almost_ felt sorry for the king. He was being treated worse than dirt in his own palace, and now he was off to fuck his wife. Not that the fucking was good, because Gal had a feeling even _God_ knew it was good.

 

He came to her door and knocked, which was quickly answered by one of her ladies; he wasn’t sure of her name, they all looked alike except for Isabella, but she was nowhere to be found. “Your Majesty,” he greeted as he walked into the room, bowing at the waist.

 

“Oh, _Gal_ , it’s good to see you,” Madalena cooed as she walked over to press their faces together in a hungry kiss. When she pulled away, Galavant felt himself smiling, until he spotted Isabella slinking out of the room. His heart pounded a few extra times in his chest.

 

“Did you know Isabella was standing there…” He watched as the door shut and he looked to Madalena in alarm. “What if she tells the king-.”

 

“And what’s he going to do about it?” Madalena asked as she sat down and gestured for him to do the same. “Come on, sit and dine with me so we can get to more important stuff.”

 

“Look, Richard may be a pushover, but he’s still the _king_ ,” he hissed as he sank onto the chair provided. “The man could order my head cut off tomorrow if he finds out about us!”

 

“Are we thinking of the same Richard?” Madalena countered. “The man who is so daft, he doesn’t even notice when I flirt with the _jester_ whilst he tells horrific jokes? He _actually_ believes that I’ve taken a vow of chastity.”

 

Right. Richard was either blind or stupid, and Gal wasn’t sure which. _Or maybe he just ignores it, he chooses to be ignorant…_ He shook his head and picked up a piece of bread to dip into the thick broth of the soup.

 

“You know what I think,” Madalena said with a smile.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I think I know someone else who would look _much_ better on that throne.” Her fingers began to playfully walk over to his arm, teasing his sleeve and wrist.

 

A frown went over his face as he watched her walk her fingers up his arm and to his chest and then bearded chin. “What are you suggesting?”

 

“I’m _suggesting_ that we find a way to get rid of the king.” She smirked and took a sip of her wine.

 

_Two_ people wanted to kill King Richard? Now Gal was _really_ starting to feel sorry for the guy. “You want me to kill the king?” he asked, keeping his voice low just in case the walls had ears.

 

A cruel and evil smile slid over Madalena’s face. It reminded him of a jackal, ready to strike its prey. “Exactly.”

 

 

 


	4. To Save a King

“I’m going out!”

 

Galavant glanced up from what he’d been doing, which had been teaching Madalena card tricks, to where Richard was walking toward the main doors with determination. Alone. Sighing, he turned his gaze to Madalena. “Gotta go.”

 

“You’re joking,” said said dryly. “You’d rather go with him than be here with me?”

 

“It’s my job… Besides, you want him… Well, if you want to get the job done, then I have to be with him most of the time.” Galavant stood and quickly chased after the king, hot on his heels.

 

Richard was making quick steps toward his horse, which was being held for him by a stablehand. Galavant whistled and one of the other boys rushed to get his horse ready as well. “Rich-. Your Majesty!” he called as he jogged up and grasped onto the horse’s reigns, making it snort and paw at the ground in annoyance.

 

“What are you doing?” Richard asked, glaring down at him as if he’d offended him.

 

“You can’t go out on your own. Where’s Gareth?” he asked as his horse was hurried out.

 

“I told him to stay behind,” Richard replied stubbornly. “You will do the same-.”

 

“I will do no such thing.” Galavant sighed and turned to mount his horse, glad he was armed and ready to defend the king if need be. _You’re supposed to kill him, not defend him._

 

“You will do as I ask,” Richard snapped back, but Gal just stared at him.

 

“Ready to leave when you are, Majesty.”

 

If Richard was going to be stubborn, two could play that game. The king cast him a dark look, but no more protests came from his mouth, instead they rode out of the gates and off on the road. They called it the King’s Road, since it was the one most populated by traders and usually the king. He wasn’t sure where Richard was going or why, but Galavant rode behind him, ready to launch into action if someone were to attack them from the side or front.

 

_Kill the king, don’t protect the king. The easiest thing in the world would be to_ let _Richard die on the road. Then, you wouldn’t be a murderer, just a victim. No one can save him if you’re unconscious… Well, that’s what you’d tell people, at least._

 

“So, where are going?” Gal asked as they rode in silence. The road was silent and empty, save for the sound of their horses. “Just felt the need for a morning stroll?”

 

“We’re just going,” Richard replied sharply.

 

“You still mad at me?” he asked, urging his horse to fall into step with Richard’s. “Look, I apologize for insulting your wife, I just think that you need to put your foot down.”

 

“Get in line.” Richard didn’t look at him, he just kept riding, his gaze focused on ahead. Galavant frowned, wondering why Richard seemed so different all of a sudden. A few days had passed between his dinner with Madalena and the king had been mostly locked away in his study. He hadn’t seen anyone or done anything in days, but now he was out and moody. It was strange to see him in such a dark place.

 

“Your Majesty, may I ask you something?” he asked tentatively, wondering where Richard’s limits were. The king had a hot temper and Gal had no desire to tempt it. “Frankly.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“You’ve been fairly quiet and alone for a few days, and now you seem to be in a foul mood.”

 

“What is your question, Galavant?”

 

He opened his mouth, trying to find a way to word his next question without sounding too friendly. “Can I do something? To make your mood lighter?”

 

Richard pulled his horse to a sharp stop and Galavant had to do the same.

 

“Why do you suddenly seem to care so much?” Richard asked.

 

The question hit him like a ton of bricks and left an awkward silence between them. Why _did_ he care so much? It would be just as easy to draw his sword and behead the poor bastard. But, no, he didn’t want to hurt Richard. Not on the road. Not like this.

 

“I just don’t like seeing you so dark and angry, Your Majesty,” Galavant replied carefully. “When a king is in a foul mood, it could mean war.”

 

Richard clenched his jaw and moved his horse onward. Galavant relaxed and once again fell into pace with him. They rode in silence for the rest of the way. At one point, they veered off of the main road and took another, it was more overgrown and clearly less populated. Galavant worried about bandits, but the only thing they came across was a fox. It paused to stare at them before disappearing into the tall grass.

 

It wasn’t until they came to a lake that Richard stopped, dismounted, and tied his horse to a tree. Galavant had to try not to sigh as he did the same. As he tied his own horse off, Galavant watched as Richard went to stand at the shore of the lake, staring out across the wide blue expanse. It was beautiful and in the afternoon light, the water sparkled and trembled with each small lap. He stayed near the horses for a while, before finally approaching Richard slowly, his hand on the hilt of his sword and the other reaching to touch Richard’s shoulder.

 

“Tell me, Galavant,” Richard said suddenly, making him pause before touching him. “Is it better for a king to be feared… or loved?”

 

“Loved, Your Majesty,” he said immediately. “It is better for the people to love you.”

 

“But the people don’t love me,” he replied quietly, still staring out over the lake, his eyes squinted.

 

The instinctual reaction was to disagree; to say that the people loved their king immensely. “May I speak frankly again, Your Majesty?” When Richard nodded, Galavant took a deep breath and decided to go ahead and say what they were both thinking, “No, Sire, the people don’t love you.”

 

Richard’s jaw tightened and he turned away to start walking along the shore of the lake. Gal followed slowly, staying a few steps behind so as not to offend him. They walked along the lake together in silence, Richard pause now and again to pick up a rock and toss it at the water. He wasn’t sure what the point of their venture was, but he wasn’t about to demand they go home. Not until the sun began to go down.

 

“Your Majesty, we should head back. It will be dark soon.” Galavant looked to the sky and hoped they had enough daylight to travel by. The risks would be greater if they moved at night.

 

Richard had stopped walking along the shore a few hours back, he was now just sitting on a large rock, staring out at the water. Gal was just glad he’d packed some extra bread in his satchel the day before. Wasn’t Richard _hungry_ by now? Surely he had to be hungry.

 

“They will start to come look for us soon, Sire.”

 

Richard finally seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d been under to look at him. He seemed a lot older in the fading light, and tired too. “I do not know how to make them love me.”

 

Galavant took a deep breath and realized they didn’t have time to debate on how to rule the kingdom. “We can discuss it in the morning, Your Majesty, we really should be going-.”

 

“People like you, don’t they, Galavant?” Richard asked, clearly ignoring the need to leave.

 

“I-. I suppose they do…” Galavant shrugged and went to sit beside him, since they were not going to go anywhere anytime soon. “I’m not sure, I’ve never asked anyone.”

 

“Your squire likes you,” Richard pointed out.

 

“Yes, he does.”

 

“My wife likes you.”

 

“Yes, she-.” He cut off and looked at Richard in alarm. “Your Majesty- Madalena- _Her_ _Majesty_ and I are just friends, that is all. I mean, we’re not even truly friends, I simply do as she asks-.”

 

Shutting up seemed like an excellent idea all of a sudden. It would be better than continuing to make an ass of himself.

 

“She likes you,” Richard repeated. “Yes or no?”

 

Galavant sighed. “Yes, Your Majesty. She likes me.”

 

The king nodded and dropped his eyes down, looking lost and sad. “I am not as stupid as I act, you know. I am aware that she finds comfort in someone else’s bed.”

 

Galavant frowned. If Richard _knew_ about Madalena’s adultery, why didn’t he do anything about it? The king before Richard, Gal was certain, had cut off a few heads or six when his wives slept with someone other than him. “Your Majesty,” he said slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. “If you _know_ that the queen is being unfaithful, why do you stay married to her?”

 

Richard shrugged slightly. “Every king needs a queen,” he said.

 

“Yes, but you could find a queen who _does_ love you, I’m certain. Who would give you children-.”

 

“No one loves me, Galavant.”

 

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He could only stare at Richard, at a complete loss for words. Eventually, Richard stood up and began to walk toward the horses.

 

“Let us go, Galavant. I am tired.”

 

Galavant nodded slowly. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he muttered as he stood and went to get the horses ready for departure.

 

They made their way down the overgrown road in complete silence, with Galavant behind to keep Richard’s back covered, and Richard going at a brisk pace back toward the main road. He kept his eyes sharp for movement, but the only things moving in the forest were animals. As they reached the main road, Galavant drew them up short.

 

It was still and quiet, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that he liked. Not the comfortable quiet of earlier. It was stark and the whole world seemed to be lacking oxygen. It was hard to breathe.

 

“What is it?” Richard whispered too loudly.

 

“I don’t know,” he replied slowly as he began to dismount, ready to withdraw his sword.

 

“Are we in trouble?”

 

Galavant turned to face Richard and met his eyes from where he stood on the ground. “By my life, I will protect you,” he said so seriously that it even surprised himself. Where the hell had _that_ come from? “You don’t have to- _worry_!”

 

Someone grabbed him from behind and yanked Richard off of his horse. The icy cold blade went to his throat, but Galavant tucked his shoulder in and flipped his attacker over his shoulder and onto the ground. The man cried out and Galavant leapt over him to see three thieves holding Richard still, a knife to his throat.

 

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” one of them said with a wicked grin.

 

“Drop the sword,” the one he’d tossed onto the ground snapped as he forced himself up. “Now.”

 

Galavant glanced at Richard and realized this was the moment. He could laugh and tell them to go ahead and slit the king’s throat. It would be over and done, but instead, Gal felt his fingers relax and the sword clattered to the ground.

 

“You’re committing treason,” he said, even though it was an empty threat. It was obvious the bandits could care less about treason.

 

“You think we give a shit abou’ _treason_ , do ya?” The leader snorted and began to pat Richard down, clearly searching for coins. The others were stripping him of his rings and anything else he had on his person of value. They cut the clothes from his body and fought over the fabric, all the while the big one held on and kept the knife on the king’s throat.

 

For insurance, Gal was sure.

 

“Your turn,” the leader said with a grin as he began to check Galavant’s person.

 

His eyes darted up to Richard’s and saw a sea of blue that wavered on being afraid and defiant.

 

_Think, Gal. Think! You have to get yourself and him out of this mess. Preferably with your stuff back, because I’m sure Richard likes his stuff and doesn’t want it taken from him. Oh God- he’s going to cry- oh come on man, don’t cry now. Don’t cry. Don’t show them weakness- Don’t. Fuck it._

 

Galavant grabbed the leaders face and shoved the man into the tree they stood by, making blood burst along the bark and green leaves. It looked black in the moonlight, but he didn’t have time to look too hard. In one movement, he knelt, picked up his sword, and ran one of the men completely through. The others launched at him and he could see the large man yanking Richard down the road.

 

“Galavant!” Richard called, as they pulled him along.

 

Gal tightened his jaw, knocked two of the thieves down, ran his blade along another’s stomach, and then he was running and tackling the large man from the side. It was like hitting a wall, but the momentum at least made the man let Richard go and he had the thief almost to the ground.

 

“Run!” he yelled, all the while dragging the bastard to the ground and smashing the thief’s face with the hilt of his sword.

 

More than anything he wanted to make sure Richard made it back to his horse in one piece, but there was another blade on his throat and he had to focus on finishing what he’d started. His vision started to go dark at the edges and it wasn’t long before he found himself standing in the middle of the road, covered in blood, and surrounded by corpses. There was no memory from the time he’d told Richard to run, from the time he stood still in the road, breathing heavily, his sword a bloody mess.

 

Spinning in a slow circle, he saw that he was alone, the horses were gone, and Richard’s belongings were scattered all over. How long had he stood there? Hours? Minutes? Seconds? From the heaviness of his breathing and the racing of his heart, Gal assumed it had only been a few minutes, if not seconds. Meaning, Richard couldn’t have gotten far. Wiping his sword with his cloak, Galavant sheathed the weapon and began to continue down the road.

  
He needed to make it back. He had to make sure Richard was safe.

 

 

 

“Richard? The hell happened to you?! I _knew_ I shoulda followed ya- damn it!”

 

Richard slid off of his horse and looked back over his shoulder, in hopes that Galavant would return soon. “Galavant?” he called. His voice echoed around the stone courtyard, but no answer came, and Gareth began to pull him along inside.

 

“Catch yer death out there, you will,” Gareth mumbled as he draped his own cloak over Richard’s frame. “What happened?”

 

“Galavant and I were out and we were on our way back and we were _attacked_ , Gareth. By thieves-. They took my jewels, my _clothes_ , everything. It was awful.”

 

“That’s why you need a fully armed _guard_ with ya, Richard,” Gareth chided as they kept walking. “The hell is Galavant?”

 

“He told me to run…” Richard followed Gareth through back passageways up to his rooms, feeling concerned for Galavant’s safety. “He saved me, Gareth… I want immediate notice if he returns.”

 

“Yes, SIre,” Gareth muttered as he helped Richard sit in a chair.

 

“I mean it, Gareth! Immediately!”

 

When Gareth nodded, Richard looked around his room and realized it was full, but it was also empty. There was no one waiting for him to return safely. No wife to greet him, no son to climb into his lap, no daughter to want to braid his hair and beard - he’d let her, too. It was just full of objects; cold objects who couldn’t love him.

 

“Lemme call up someone to draw ya a bath, yeah?” Gareth said as he patted his shoulder. “Help ya relax.”

 

“Alright, Gareth. Thank you.” Richard handed the cloak back, in favor of going to wrap himself up in a blanket on his bed. More than anything he would have loved to have someone sit and comfort him. It had been a terrifying ordeal, out on the road. And he wasn’t sure what had happened to Galavant.

 

“Richard?!”

 

Richard jumped at the sound of Gal’s voice, immediately getting up and going to the door, only to be almost bowled over by the knight. “Galavant! You’re alive!”

 

“ _You’re_ alive!” Galavant smiled and yanked him into a relieved hug. “I was worried. I have your stuff.”

 

“What about the thieves?” Richard asked as they stepped apart and Galavant began to set the jewels down; the clothing was ruined, but Richard knew he could have something else made.

 

“Dead,” Galavant panted.

 

It was only then that Richard realized Galavant’s light armor and clothing were covered in blood. He jumped back at the sight and felt his mouth twist. He didn’t need bloody clothing all over his room. “You need to bathe,” he said seriously.

 

Galavant snorted and laughed. “Well, Sire, I was just doing my duty, as your sworn Guard. I hope I did you a good service.”

 

“You did.” Richard nodded as Galavant turned to go. “Galavant?”

 

“Yeah?” Gal paused to glance back at him.

 

“I enjoyed myself today,” he said slowly. “More so than I have in years… I hope that we can talk again soon.”

 

“Anything you wish, Your Majesty.” Galavant bowed slightly at the waist and then he was leaving. Richard smiled delightedly and felt his spirits lift.

 

Things were already looking up.

 


End file.
